I know I don't get there often enough, but God knows I sure do try. It's a magic kind of medicine, no doctor could prescribe." Jimmy Buffett

I wrote this four years ago.

"We are not as unique as we like to believe.
We are not as unique as we would like to believe, with one stark reason. There will always be someone with the same struggles, dilemnas, and hair color as our own. There, out there somewhere, is a person much like ourselves who goes about their day just as we do.
Perhaps in finding this person, we can see how we act, react, and what we smell like. In many cases, all it takes is to step out of our own shoes,, and try to fit into someone else's. We really don't have it so bad. We have eachother, in whatever form that may be.
Perhaps there is no need to find such a person. Maybe, to be happy, all we have to do is find someone to be happy with."

I don't remember what frame of mind I was in when I wrote that. I don't even remember who it was about, if anybody. But reading my writing several years later, I realize that what I said was partially true, but my attitude now is different. If there really is someone out there so much like me, good for them. But, I don't care. I'm going to do my own thing. If I happen to run into them on the corner, I may see myself in the reflection of their glasses, but nothing more. I'll wish them the best of luck on their path, and continue on my own.

I'm heading out of town to celebrate New Years. Do I have any resolutions? You bet. I'm going to continue doing what makes me happy. If something happens to me that causes me joy, anger, pleasure, or pain, so be it. I'm not the type of person to drastically change a part of me, simply because I am told to buy a new calander.

Happy New Years, and what-not.

somewhat conflicted

I was afraid to stop any closer to this vehicle, because the driver had his eye on me. All I wanted was a picture!

You may not be able to grasp the humor of this shot. But if you look at the very front of the truck, you'll notice a snow plow. Of course, there is a canoe on the top. I guess only in Missouri could you possibly take a canoe trip, or have to plow snow in the course of 24 hours. Might as well be prepared to do both, I assume.

Visitors

On one hand, my hope is that someone out there has experienced this. On the other hand, I hope not. It’s a terrifying experience.

For almost a year now, I have been having sleep paralysis events, usually beginning shortly after I fall asleep. For those of you who don’t know what sleep paralysis is, it’s not as boring, or sexy as you may think. Everything you read here is true; nothing has been exaggerated. I’m not trying to win friends or gain sympathy.

This condition is similar to a nightmare you may have had as a kid. Whenever I experienced a nightmare, I was usually able to force myself, in my dream, to widen my eyes enough that I would wake myself up. It’s a little different to control yourself during sleep paralysis, because you can’t. You can’t move anything, no matter how hard you try. It’s bizarre.

What’s more bizarre are the things your mind invents of events happening around you, or to you. People claim to hear banging on walls, or someone pacing in the hallway just outside their bedroom door. Fortunately, I haven’t experienced those. I have, however, experienced the feeling of my head being pushed into my pillow, and someone sitting on my chest. While it is occurring, it feels real. You think it is real. I have felt presence around my bed, as if someone is watching me. Last night, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I felt my arm reach up and I gently squeezed a relatively small hand. The hand gently squeezed back. Of course, there was no real hand, but my brain told me there was.

You are afraid to fall back asleep.

Doctors don’t really know what causes this. My doctor tells me it’s just my brain trying to catch up at the end of the day. That doesn’t make sense. What is it catching up from?

I was watching the Discovery Channel special about sleep paralysis a few weeks ago. The medical reasons given by doctors interviewed were just as vague. Another group of professionals claim that people who experience sleep paralysis are experiencing a visit from aliens. That almost seems to make more sense. But how did they get my new address?

a most unusual morning

This afternoon, around 4, I took a nap. I didn't wake up until 6:30. When I looked at my alarm, I noticed it was early in the morning. After all, it was dark out, like it usually is really early in the morning. I felt refreshed like I usually do after a good night's sleep, so I decided to get up a little early. When I walked down the hall, I heard music coming from the office. My brother was up spinning his records, preparing his mixed tape. I thought this was a bit unusual for being so early. I then got online, and said good morning to a friend. She said "good morning?" Yes, it's 6:35.
Then it hit me. It was still Tuesday night. What? You mean I have another Tuesday night to spend? I thought that only happened in the movies. It was bizarre watching the Simpsons and eating ravioli when you planned on eating breakfast and heading off to work. I still haven't caught up.

A setting sun falls on a rising star

Who knows who she could have been. Perhaps she would have started a sublime science that would lead to the cure of AIDS. Maybe he would have written the next peace treaty between two struggling nations. The child could have grown to become the next Mother Teresa.

But it never will be.

Mother Nature is purely the pure controller of all of us. No matter how many walls we build, or tunnels we dig, we will always be under the supreme control of Earth, in it's almighty muscle. There is nothing we can do about it now, and nothing we will ever be able to do. It's simply a matter of nature, something we must be willing to accept.

But how do we accept the blatant slaying of more than 23,000 people, to date, in less than 24 hours? A mere 3,000 people died in the September 11th attacks of the US in 2001, to give you some prespective. And that attack was intentional.

It's hard to grasp that God is just as willing to take away as he is to give. After this occurance, it's easy to assume he's more willing to take away. It's a tough pill to swallow. We, as a species, are inherently surivalistic, and we will no doubt outlive this catastrophe. But, in the eyes of those affected, perhaps we have not.

UP UP and AWAY

It seems my brain has been running at idle for the past several days. Every time I sit down to contribute to this mess, I end up either staring out the window, or imagining myself as a member of a teen grunge band. I'm usually the drummer.

But, I have managed to pull together a few unconnected thoughts this time.

Imagine yourself sitting in the Space Station God knows how far up, with only a Russian to keep you company. Imagine that, and add the fact that you are quickly running out of food. Imagine that, and add the fact that the US has seemingly abandoned you, not planning on the next launch of an American shuttle until May. You quickly find yourself very friendly toward the Russians, who were nice enough to send up a little care package.

I think I've adequately collected enough household items to move out of the house.
Why haven't I moved back to Indianapolis yet?

If you had to leave the house today, and only bring what you could carry with you in your arms, what would it be? It's a very intriguing question for me, and I don't even know where I would start. I almost had that opportunity last year, but I was too late. I don't even know what I would have grabbed, even if I had an hour to think about it.

A shim

I know I haven't posted anything here lately. So for those of you who read this religiously (I am the only one), here is a list of random facts, some of it decent trivia.

Dairy cows can produce 125 pounds of saliva a day.
"Barf" means "snow" in the Persian language.
Ninety-eight percent of all animal species don't have a backbone.
The heat of peppers is rated on the Scoville scale.
Native Americans once used woodpecker scalps as currency.
There are about a billion bicycles in the world, twice as many as automobiles.
During the course of a year, the average person walks four miles to make their bed.
It took 20,000 men 22 years to build the Taj Mahal.
The Pittsburgh Steelers were originally called the Pirates.
The circumference of the Earth at the equator measures 24,902 miles.
Fred Astaire's favorite dance partner was Gene Kelly.
Twinkies are 68 percent air.
"Siderodromophilia" is sexual arousal derived from riding in trains.
Budweiser beer is named after a town in Czechoslovakia.
Popeye was 5'6" tall.
Cleopatra married two of her brothers.
The Chunnel, the tunnel between England and France, is 31 miles long, 23 of which are under water.
Arguments in the home most often happen in the kitchen.
A shim is a device that is used to fill in space.

DSOTM

My assumption is that you’ve never been in an emergency room, wondering if this was the last room you’ll ever see. Until a year ago, I hadn’t either.

When I came home from work that night, I stopped by the grocery store to buy a frozen pizza for dinner. The pizza was the gourmet kind, so I was eager to try it. When the timer went off, I ran downstairs to pull the pizza from the oven. Hurriedly, I cut the pizza, put it on the plate, grabbed a beverage, and jogged upstairs. I didn’t want to miss the show that was playing.

I made it upstairs, and ate my pizza. When I was done, my heart started beating rapidly. It started a little quicker than normal, then continued for a minute. After that minute, it was racing twice its normal rate. I panicked.

After finding my doctor’s phone number in the phone book, I made an emergency call to his direct line. He called me back in 31 minutes. My heart was beating as fast as it was 33 minutes previous. He asked me if I was ok to drive. I, unknowingly, said yes. I drove to the emergency room. Before I did that, I left a note with my parents.

When I arrived at the emergency room, I had no idea what was going on. I felt no pain, only sheer fear. I think all my adrenaline was past gone, and I started to tremble. They immediately admitted me, and began hooking me up to all sorts of monitors. Then they brought out the defibulator. My brain, at that time, was firing all sorts of messages. The most obvious was of survival. But I didn’t know how to survive this. The other messages were of guilt, shock, fear, and clarity.

Clarity? On your death bed? At that time, there was one girl on my mind. I have no idea why I thought of her, but I vowed that I would say goodbye to her before I died. I hadn’t thought of her for months prior to that. I have seen her a couple times since. I haven’t said goodbye yet. I may never either.

Strange thoughts enter your mind if you honestly fear it’s over. We may never know the origin of these thoughts, but then again, we might. Who knows what will happen on the other side. The dark side of the moon. I may find out who killed JFK. I may even meet my Grandpa, before his illness.

Current thoughts

Why is it that sometimes I am a great pool shot, and other times I can't make anything?
I will be in Indianapolis for New Years this year. If you don't have plans, you can hang out with us.
Has anyone ever used an electric wok? If so, do you have any good recipes?
TNT is going to be playing the Wizard of Oz on December 19th. Get your cds out!
Sorry this was so hastily thrown together. I'm going to do my best to post something a little more thought provoking, or enjoyable later.

More than a compulsion...

When does business end and social responsibility begin? I work in the retail industry (I am not entirely proud of that fact), in a hardware store in an upscale section of town. We’re used to people coming in and purchasing more than a thousand dollars of merchandise. It happens frequently. What doesn’t happen frequently is a single elderly man, on an oxygen tank, comes in, spend two hours in the store, and buy $1,000 of flashlights, batteries, and duct tape. He said they are Christmas gifts.
Throughout the evening, I watched him look at flashlights. The flashlights are located right near the exit, so I assumed he was just killing time before he left. He filled up his cart, twice.
We all are aware of the problem of compulsive spending, especially during the holiday season. Store associates are paid to induce compulsive spending, and millions of dollars have been spent studying how the human brain reacts. Why else would Wal-Mart locate baby diapers near the beer aisle? Marketing.
But this story has nothing to do with marketing or consumer responsibility. It is more than a compulsion. It has more to do with corporate responsibility to the consumer. This man, although he claimed to buy them as gifts, was most likely hording these items for himself. It’s an all too common phenomenon in people with something a little off in their mind. I’ve witnessed it in my own family. Seeing it first-hand, with someone you’re close to, is awfully alarming. And it’s your responsibility to take steps to correct the problem. When you see it at work with someone you’re not emotionally connected to, is different. It’s not necessarily your responsibility to monitor and control their fiscal responsibility, but you would feel incredibly guilty if you did nothing about it. I did nothing about it, and I felt guilty. But what do you do? Where does your connection to your employer end, and your desire to help begin? Unfortunately, I wear a corporate logo nametag. While I’m on the clock, I represent the company. I can’t stop someone from buying something, especially if he says they’re gifts. If I were off the clock, I don’t know what I would have done. If he were my dad, he wouldn’t have been in the store alone.
I was writing this in my head as I drove home from work. Unfortunately, when I do that, it doesn’t seem to come out as eloquently as it was in my mind. There must be some disconnect between my brain and fingers. Sorry if you were disappointed.

for those keeping score

I didn't know the facts when I wrote the piece about our house fire. Equipment from Kirkwood, Valley Park, Ballwin, Chesterfield, West County, and all five stations of Metro West were at our house. 5 chiefs. 4 water tankers. 3 Hook and ladders. 23 Trucks total.

an explanation of the blog below

For those of you unaware, I have been frantically searching the house for two CD's containing documents from my old computer. In all honesty, I thought they were gone. But they weren't. In fact, they were closer than I would have expected.
Sitting in front of my computer this morning, I realized the orange shoe box usually sitting right beside the computer was missing. Apparently I threw the box in my closet a few weeks ago while I hurridly cleaned my room. Company was coming, and my room was a mess. Inside the box was an assortment of computer related stuff, including the CD's!
If I don't do anything productive the rest of the day, I will be happy. The blog below was what I have been searching for. So there you go.
I wrote that during my junior year at Butler, about an experience I shared with several kids just before we started college. I went so far as to send the article in to two magazines. Neither wanted it (as I can see why today), but it was a fun attempt.
Hope you enjoy.

Eureka! A huge sigh of relief.

An Ideal College Orientation Session

Perhaps there is a no more direct way to build lasting friendships then to cram a baker’s dozen of college freshmen in a school van, and ship them up to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. This was my first orientation as to what college has to offer, and in a greater sense, what life has to offer.

Three years ago, I hopped into a van with twelve other clean-shaven, slightly nervous, and generally excited, soon to be college students. Many of us had little idea of the nature of nature, and fewer were prepared with our polypropylene underwear and lexan water bottles. None of these high-tech, highly functional gear and gadgets had any more importance than merely keeping us warm and containing our tea. Meeting a group of kids all experiencing the same rugged beauty and challenges that we soon would experience is why we were there, and why such a program exists.

I have grown up hiking along trails, eating freeze-dried spaghetti, and digging cat-holes far away from anywhere important. Much of my experience was contributed by the Boy Scouts, for which I am completely thankful. However, none of my hikes or camp-outs could prepare me for ten days of hiking, kayaking, canoeing, and mountain biking with a group of strangers. This would be a social challenge, as well as a physical and spiritual endeavor.

No sooner then we were in the van, we were out of the van, and our long journey north was over. After a bloated day of sitting on a plastic/leather bench seat, shoulder to shoulder with a mysteriously odd kid from Indianapolis, I soon would learn that he, too, had spent more than a night in the woods. Well, I thought, I have at least one thing in common with one person on this trip. This strange person from Indianapolis would become my second tent mate ever, and if it is possible, another best friend. Our friendship remains today, stronger than ever.

This trip had the potential to be entirely enjoyable. Not enjoyable in the sense that I would be able sit atop the peak of Cloud’s Rest overlooking the magnificent Yosemite, contemplating the meaning of life. But in the sense that I would have a great time racing canoes down a windy river and cruising down a rocky descent on an ill-functioning set of wheels disguised as a mountain bike. We were here to have fun while we built the bonds that we realized would exceed our time shared in Michigan.

We all have spent nights in our tents chatting with a tent-mate we have known since we have owned our tents. Until three years ago, I have only slept in a tent with one other person; justifiably, I consider him my best friend. Most of us, however, have not shared a nylon shelter or an aluminum canoe with a perfect stranger. No other setting brings out a true personality than that of a wilderness. All of us know that impressively warm glow a campfire provides. As we stare into the flickering orange flames slowly consuming that last log, somehow we all find that inner desire to open up to those who occupy the logs surrounding the fire. Truly, we learned something about others and ourselves as we sat around the campfire at the end of the evening.

As our ten days quickly slipped by, we learned that all of us had one thing in common. We all had a dozen new friends in which to confide during our first few (mostly intimidating) weeks of college stress. Soon we learned that these new wilderness-induced comrades would provide one another years of companionship and someone to sit with at the cafeteria table.

Those ten days spent wandering around a mile off the coast of Michigan, on Grand Island, taught us all more than the proper technique to filter water and to follow basic trail ethics. If you ever have the opportunity to spend a few nights in the woods as a means to meet people, or simply enjoy yourself with the company of good company, take a couple days off work. Laughing in the wilderness can provide as great an experience as pondering why we inhabit our beautiful planet. Enjoy yourselves.

Scott Randle
Butler University

The truth is often more frightening than fiction

I have been online since I was 16. There are several reasons I spend so much time here, but most of them are excuses. Recently, I have determined I am addicted. Whenever I'm home, instant messanger is on. If I'm in another room, I turn my speakers up. While at work a few days ago, I checked my email on my phone. Apparently I thought I would never be home again to check it on my computer.

This past year, I signed up for an online dating service. My intention really was never to date someone I met online. If that happened, I think I would be a little apprehensive. Perhaps my intention was just to "have some fun, and try something new". Looking at myself in the third person is a little scary. While in school, I never would consider signing up for such a service. The idea seems awkward and blind. It's incredibly easy to hide behind a keyboard.

That is what I have done for so many years. My comfort level has grown to a point where I could call up anyone in any state, and probably have a place to stay the night. The internet has given me many more friends and contacts I never would have had otherwise. For that, I am thankful.

My only fear about this is my growing comfort level, and the ease of hiding behind the keyboard. I have always been modest in my online dealings, save a few drunken emails. We're all entitled to a couple. But, we are not entitled to over-extending our relationships using the online bridge. Respect, integrity and compassion seem to have fallen out the window. The shadowy face of disdain, manipulation, and ego seem to be the replacement. This is my fear. My hope is it will never effect you and me.

bound, and a little determined

As far back as I can remember, I've always found myself easily infatuated. Not with people (although it's happened), but with things, ideas, or projects. Today, my infatuation consists of finding a document I wrote years ago. It was one of those pieces you want to hang on to forever. I tried. I think I failed. I also just realized I begin too many sentences with the same word. My english teachers would scold me endlessly for that.
Back to my point. For the past couple hours, I have been frantically searching for two cd's the restoration company burned off of my hard drive after the fire. Before we moved from our rental house 6 months ago, I had the cd's. Today, I don't. My bedroom is a mess. Random items are on my bed, including a cooler, shelves, a pile of towels, books, drumsticks, a climbing rope, and a PUR waterfilter. But, no cd's.
Perhaps you've assumed my piece of writing I treasured so much was on one of those cd's. It was. And I've found myself infatuated with the idea that if I keep looking, they will show up. Perhaps I will find them tonight. I've just now realized that the only reason I'm infatuated with finding them, is that I'm terrified at the idea of losing my writing forever.
I've considered re-writing the essay, but I've since determined that task would be impossible. The essay would not be the same. Maybe it's gone for good. Maybe I should face reality and write something new. Maybe the cd's will show up somewhere down the road, and I will be as happy then as I am upset now. Maybe I should have written about something else tonight. Maybe I should have paid more attention during English class.

"I know I don't get there often enough, but God knows I sure do try. It's a magic kind of medicine, no doctor could prescribe." Jimmy Buffett

When I originally wrote it, I never intended on publishing it. Because of that, I never will. But I decided, maybe every few weeks, to publish a thought or phrase from my diary I kept through college. Here we go.
"I don't know the purpose or fate of this letter. I don't know what I want the fate to be. But if this ends up in your hands, just know the purpose is not to hurt or scare you."
I won't publish the dates.

360 in 365

The date of December 10th is as etched into my mind as September 11th is in the collective American's. Standing in the tool department of Sears, I answered a phone call I would have never expected. The voice on the other end was that of my neighbor, with a tremble that I will never forget. When I think about them today, the words that came out of her mouth still send shudders down my spine, as they did a year ago.

"Scott, this is your neighbor, Shelly. You need to come home. Your house is on fire."

Thankfully at that time, I still had a fast car. Adrenaline was pumping through as I made record time home, beating my neighbor (Shelly's husband, Lance) home. Lance was closer to the house, and left before me. We never did figure out how I arrived first.

When I finally made it home (record time seemed to take longer than it takes to drive to Denver), I was in awe. I never expected to see what I saw; I didn't know what to expect. Three ladder trucks, two water trucks, an ambulance or two, Suburbans, Chief's Crown Vic's, rescue trucks, and other miscellaneous fire trucks were stacked in front of our house. Even more trucks arrived after I did. Trucks and emergency personnel from five departments helped that day. Five.

After comforting my mom (my words flowed out as if on cue), I went outside to look at the house. I found the first firefighter available, and asked him if he had seen my dog. He had not. I pointed to where in the house I thought he would be, and he told me dogs were inherently survivalistic. He said "they tend to find their way out of trouble." I knew this was a lie, but it was comforting to hear there was some hope. Too bad. Poor little guy. Rascal.

Tonight my parents are hosting a party for everyone in the company that helped us rebuild our house. We are eternally grateful for their sacrifices and courage (true), as well as their unwavering support for us at our worst.
I know they may never read this, or at least in this online form, but a big, honest, and tearful THANK YOU to the firefighters, employees of Fireworks, friends, family, neighbors, coworkers, and people in the shadows who helped my family and me get back on our feet. These people come out of the woodwork. It's comforting to realize that humans are inherently good. They are.

losing hair by the minute

I'm open to suggestions. Since last night, I have been wrestling with this thing. I'm attempting to publish my photo in my profile, like everyone else seems to have done. But when I get to the last step, it says the link is broken. The funny thing is, the link works. Have you experienced this?

My only hope is the technical work of owning a blog gets easier as time goes on. You all know how frustrating it is to have an idea or a plan, and not the means to follow through with it. By the end of the afternoon, I will have solved this little problem, or would have cut the grass. I think I'll go cut the grass.

A Picture Share!

Amazing! I took this photo on my phone, then emailed it directly to my blog! I'm pretty impressed.

what's up?

gh

A new look

Several years ago, my brother and I were ambitious. We cut nearly a dozen lawns around our neighborhood, and made decent money doing it. In the summers, we would sell lemonade on the street near the entrance of our neighborhood. Both of those activities seem very common for kids of that age. But, my brother and I took our entrepreneurship one tasty step further. We realized that we weren't making the money we had hoped by merely selling lemonade.
I'm not sure who had the idea first, but we decided to sell coffee to the businessmen during the weekdays as they drove to work. We made a sign which surprised my dad. The creation of the sign itself did not surprise him. We have done that before. What surprised him was what we wrote on it. I'm going to paraphrase it, because I can't remember what exactly it said, and I did not keep the sign. My brother may have though. I'll ask him.
"Same guys. New product. We sell coffee. $.50. Come back later for lemonade." We were young, and looking back, we had something better to do. We could have been selling engine parts to Boeing, or cardboard packages to McDonalds. But, we didn't.
I need suggestions on my newly remodeled blog.